


The Malfoy Conspiracy

by mmon



Series: Abandoned Plots [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:11:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9376001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmon/pseuds/mmon
Summary: Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Wizarding World owe a life debt to Harry Potter, and Draco goes back in time to pay up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A work written in late 2013.

“What are you doing?” Tom was asked, and frightened, he turned around swiftly addressed the blond man.

“Nothing,” Tom replied quietly, tilting his chin up defiantly, and the blond man rolled his eyes.

“Oh, stop that, I’m not going to cane you.” He crouched in front of Tom and craned his head to the side. He held a brightly lacquered pipe in his hand and lipped the bit. “I’m just curious.”

Tom took a step back and guarded his snakes jealously. “It’s _nothing_ ,” he insisted, remembering how Mrs Cole had caned him for having snakes.

“Snakes?” He questioned curiously, still maintaining eye contact with Tom. “You like snakes?”

“No, sir,” Tom replied immediately, and tried to put impulsion that it was true behind it, like he did to keep the other children away.

The man scowled and stood, brushing off his overcoat that looked very old fashioned to Tom. “Don’t do that to me, young man, you are much too young for a curse of obedience.”

Startled, Tom actually hissed and caused the snakes to flee in the bushes. “A curse! I’m-I’m no witch, sir,”

“I should hope not,” he replied. “You would be a wizard. And what you are doing? Don’t. Stop that,” The man swatted his hand in front of his face as if batting at gnats.

“What I’m doing?” Tom repeated, fearful and confused.

The man nodded and consulted an unpolished pocket-watch before replying. “Yes. Underage magic I suppose is the term. I cannot insist much against the snakes.”

“Magic!” Tom copied again, backing against the shrubbery and away from the man.

“Magic.” The blond assured. “You are too young to know of it, but I should tell you. Between wizards exists a curse, some view it as. It is called a life-debt.” He put the cane he was holding under his arm and pulled an expensive looking pipe from his pocket. He waited for a response, but none were forthcoming from Tom. “When you save another wizard’s life, they are indebted to you for a single task. Now, the Ministry has _tried_ to put laws against these tasks to limit what the asker can request, but you know wizards; find a loophole in everything, or disregard it.”

“I don’t understand,” Tom said, fearful but entranced by the man’s tale.

“You wouldn’t,” The blonde sneered at Tom from around his pipe. “Not for a long time. I am indebted to a man, and he required one thing from me-- this is quite a big deal, you realize, because the world is indebted to him. He is quite ill though, and distraught, and lonely, and he sends for me one day. He tells me he is requesting me to accomplish a task. Can you guess what this task is?”

Tom shook his head no.

“He tells me I am supposed to prevent death.”

“Prevent-!” Tom’s eyes widen in surprise. “Sir, that is-- that’s-!”

“No, you stupid child,” the man’s eyes rolled. “Not all death. But his task required complex time travel. For three years I worked to create a device that would allow this task,”

“But sir, why did you have to complete it at all?” Tom interrupted. “Couldn’t you just ignore it?”

The man stared at Tom pityingly. “You will understand the complexity of life debts later. I traveled back in time to speak with you, Riddle.”

The look in the man’s eyes was suddenly hard and terrifying, and Tom’s hands clenched into fists, nails biting into his palms.

“You kill in the future, Tom.” The man told him bluntly. “You are a horrible, vicious killer in the future and you kill over a thousand witches and wizards in Britain alone, including my father, my mother, my aunt, her family, branches of century-old families,” he continued the list, and Tom felt frightened and fascinated the further he seemed to go.

“I am not here to stop you from these events; I am forbidden from such. You will not remember this conversation as any more than a dream, Riddle,” He knelt next to Tom and maintained eye contact. “You won’t think of any of this for a long time, and you will not remember me.” He paused, and Tom could see the mechanisms moving in his head, thinking, plotting. “Not at first, in any case.”

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but the man interrupted by raising what Tom could only assume was a wand, intoning clearly and concisely;

“ _Obliviate_.”

* * *

Father Abbott was Tom’s favorite priest because of his ambivalence toward God. Mrs Cole would have his hide if she heard him saying as such, but Father Abbott was understanding, and he _listened_ to Tom. He spent much of his time around the Father, and scrambled into the garden behind the abbey where the Father was meditating.

“Father!” He said, excitedly. Father Abbott opened one eye and smiled, his face crinkling in a happy manner.

“Mr Riddle!” He exclaimed in return. “I hear it is your eleventh birthday tomorrow,”

Tom beamed. “Yes, Father.”

“You realize that eleven is an important age, yes, Mr Riddle?” Father Abbott told him, his tone light but his expression serious.

Tom’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “I don’t understand, sir,”

Father Abbott took a moment to stand, and he groaned when he reached his full height-- _tall_ \-- and he rested a hand on his waist near his back. “It is the birthday where you learn things, Mr Riddle. Important things.”

“I thought that,” Tom swallowed around the words. “I thought that God guided his children into knowledge. Anything I learn will be by His hand,”

Abbott laughed, a low laugh that seemed fake every time Tom heard it. “How very Puritan of you,”

Tom flushed and stared at his hands. “I’m sorry, Father, I just thought-”

“No, Mr Riddle, it is a good way of thinking.” He rested a hand heavily on Tom’s shoulder. “That someone is watching and guiding you, it is more true than you believe. But,” He said, hand gripping Tom tightly now. “but one should never try to be the one guiding.” Father Abbott turned to walk out of the abbey’s garden, before telling Tom, as an afterthought, “God Bless, Mr Riddle. And a happy birthday.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I remembered the plot I had for this one. I think it may have been Draco Malfoy goes back in time and through a series of events becomes Tom's guardian, helps defeat Grindlewald, and finds twu wub. Maybe. Once again, I don't remember. I think I may have intended for Draco Malfoy to be the vicar of the church. -shrugs- Who knows? All I know is I'm a sucker for time-travel, so if inspiration strikes again, I may adopt this one again.


End file.
